A Bloodstained Rose
by wankydoodle
Summary: One shot. Seras bleeds as she mourns. She questions her identity as well.


Once again, THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! I do read them and show them off. So please continue to read and review. :) 

Special thanks to Thess for adding my fanfic to her C2 group! Yay!

And also to (drumroll)

InertiaCreeps for her undying (excuse the pun) support, and kawaiiChan-chan, nanashi-reikon, theMeH, CleoKat, BlackFireDragonK, voyager for adding my nonsensical stuff to your fave story lists. Love ya all! More yays!

My little tribute to Officer Seras Victoria. A girl with lots of spunk.

Disclaimer: I certainly do not own Hellsing.

**A Bloodstained Rose**

She was beautiful, like the delicate white flower that she had placed in her bag, the blossom hanging daintily out its open top. Clothed entirely in black, she made her way past the gravestones towards the gothic stone cathedral, seemingly lost in thought as she moved along.

It was just as well that it was morning. Coming here at night would be unbearably painful for her. The sun was up, but its golden face was mostly hidden behind clouds. The few dismal rays that managed to punch their way through were harmless on her exposed skin. She had come prepared though, dressed in a long-sleeved top and pants, her crimson eyes safely hidden behind darkened shades. Sunlight was still not a thing to be trifled with.

She walked through the long grass, not seeing anything in front of her. Mentally, she was standing in the middle of a swirl of thoughts, like a lone survivor in the eye of a storm.

Too many painful memories, too many unanswered questions. Why had they sent them here, knowing what they faced was not human? Why did the top brass sit in quiet contentment as each of her comrades fell, only to panic later when the situation got out of hand? Why did she, Seras Victoria, have the right to live on as the families of her fellow officers wept in anguish?

She had come here, for some unexplained reason, right after the latest FREAK raid. It had been a difficult affair, as the vampires were not new to their powers. Legions of ghouls had marched upon Hellsing forces, and they barely managed to hold up. It was only with the slaying of the lead vampire that it had all ended. Her Master had done the deed himself, even as she rushed to carry the injured out. He had shaken his head at her.

"_Why do you care to save them? In battle there is no room for mercy. You have to kill or be killed. The strong survive, the weak perish."_

"_I cannot ignore their suffering, Master. I am sorry," she had said, her head bowed._

_Alucard turned away from her then, fading away into the wall. Even as he did so, a voice rang out in her head._

"_Sometimes I wonder if my blood flows in your veins, Police Girl."_

_The air of resignation that accompanied that sentence had made her cringe. She had disappointed him greatly, she knew. Tears sprang in her eyes, but she had wiped them away resolutely. She was not a little girl anymore. She wasn't even human, for that matter._

Her right foot made contact with the stone step of the cathedral, and the stinging pain woke her up from her reverie. She snapped her head up, looking at the high, open wooden doors. It was here that it had all happened. In this lonely church near the village of Cheddar, her life had changed forever. She had gone in a naïve girl, afraid and lost in the encircling dark. And she had come out… something else. She wasn't sure what she was anymore. All sense of identity had shattered with the coming of Alucard.

Seras walked up the stairs and into the cavernous chamber. Her head spun as she looked into the shadowy recesses of the high ceiling. Shafts of weak sunlight crossed her path as she moved forward, passing by the rows of wooden pews.

The church in the clearing was silent and peaceful, the only noises being the crystalline notes of birdsong that greeted the morning. It was such a stark contrast to the monstrous structure she had seen on the night of her rebirth. She had stumbled into the House of God, hoping for salvation, only to be faced with an image of the Devil himself. The fact that the vampire was in a priest's garb only made the thought of safety even more ridiculous.

She reached the altar, gazing up at the cross. She felt suddenly dirty, as if her mere presence would defile this place. After all, she was an Unholy creature, one who shunned all things Christian. But as she stood there and closed her eyes, there was no lightning that struck her down. No flaming sword that threatened to run itself through her. Instead, a sense of tranquility permeated every fibre of her being. Her eyelids fluttering open, she realized that she was standing near to the spot where she had been turned.

Why had she chosen to become a vampire? She doubted she would ever know the true answer. The decision had been made within a split second, and she had been under tremendous pressure. To choose between death and life, albeit a cursed one, was never easy under any circumstances. Seras had the nagging suspicion that it was because she feared death. She did not want to die that night, and her Master had probably seen it clearly written on her face. Seras wondered often about Alucard's motives in turning her. She felt she did not have the right to ask, not at least until she achieved full independence by accepting his blood.

Her hands were ungloved today, and one reached out to grasp the slender stem of the bloom. She had come to mourn, and perhaps, to chase away the nightmares that had haunted her since her rebirth. In it she was always in the church, all alone and in the dark. She would be trapped, unable to find her way out, even as arms reached out to pull at her.

Holding the flower out with her right hand, she let the fingers of her left hand run from its fragile white petals and down the stem. Halfway down, however, a sharp jolt of pain shot through a fingertip. The florist had failed to completely remove all the thorns. She lifted the hurting finger and examined it. A bead of blood, rich and dark, was already swelling over the wound. Seras resisted the urge to lick it off. The idea of being driven by something as primal as bloodlust disgusted her suddenly.

Instead, she transferred the flower from her right to her left hand. She gripped it firmly, holding it out in front of her, allowing the thorn to dig into the pale flesh of her palm. She could feel hot wetness seep out of the new wound, and she let it run over the stem. She would bleed willingly, and prove to herself that she could control her vampiric lust for blood. The precious red liquid would be an offering, perhaps, a way to pacify the dead.

"I bleed for you, even as I mourn," she whispered into the still air.

Images flowed through her mind, memories of the people she once knew to be her colleagues and her friends. Though she had been the only female officer of her team, they had treated her as one of their own. They had looked out for her and helped her, affectionately giving her the nickname of "Kitten". She still kept a group shot of them among her prized possessions, and would gaze at their frozen and smiling faces whenever she felt lonely. She paid tribute to each of them in turn, recalling their faces and thanking them for every little good thing they had done for her.

Her crimson eyes damp, she finally lowered the rose to the floor in front of the altar. The snowy white of its petals were a stark contrast to the scarlet of the blood smeared green stem. It was a slightly grisly slight to human eyes, but to a vampire that valued blood above everything else, it was tantamount to a small sacrifice.

How ironic, thought Seras, as she rose to her feet. At one moment, she was thinking like a human, the next a vampire. Even now she felt as if two sides of her resided in one body. There was the human one who was repulsed at her vampire nature, and the vampire side that seemed to be growing stronger every day. She was drinking blood now, after realizing that she would not survive without it. Even immortals needed nourishment. However, she still couldn't stomach the thought of biting into a living human neck.

One day, she knew, she would drink fresh blood from its source. And one day, she would finally possess the courage to face up to independence and the long road of immortality. She was still young, after all. By vampire standards, a newborn. There would be plenty of opportunities for development in the future. Perhaps she would be able to strike a balance between both sides, piecing together a new view of herself from the broken fragments left behind from her turning.

She looked down at the rose for one last time. It seemed so small and insignificant in the huge expanse of the cathedral. The blood made the flower look as if it was bleeding. Bleeding like how her friends had on that fateful night of death and fear. Her eyes clouded over once more, the crimson darkening to a deeper hue of red.

Finally, Seras turned her back on the rose and left, her footsteps ringing in the silence. She finally held out the injured hand to her mouth, and saw with a wry smile that it had already healed. _Too bad_, vampire Seras thought. _A snack would be nice, even if it is my own blood._

She reached the double doors and lifted her head to the sky. Seeing that it was still cloudy, she stepped out into the pale sunlight. Her pace slowed as she felt lethargy tug at her body. She actually yawned as she made her way across the graveyard. Maybe it would be best to call in sick. _Daylight fatigue_, she thought and smiled. Her superiors would probably not question that. After all, many were still wary of having a vampire in their midst.

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The white rose stayed on the floor throughout the day, its petals growing slightly limp as the hours passed and the weather grew warm. As the day progressed, the shafts of sunlight passing through a clear glass window on the right shifted towards it across the floor. The beams moved gradually up the stem, and as they did so, the dried blood began to steam and evaporate, disappearing into the air. When the sunlight fell fully upon the rose, it was pure once more, the whiteness glowing in the gathering dusk.

THE END

I've always wanted to do a Seras fic. And as I was puzzling over it, the picture of a rose dripping with blood came to my mind. Perfect metaphor for her, I thought. As for what the rose and the blood represent, that's up to you, the reader, to decide. :)

Anyway I have a soft spot for Seras. I think she's a very strong person. She takes everything in her stride and still manages to remain chirpy at the same time. A lot of people don't take her seriously as she doesn't seem to have a backbone. However, I think she already does. She comes in to Hellsing and almost immediately joins the troops, despite having to adjust to her new way of life and dealing with the death of her comrades. If that isn't strength then I don't know what is.

I think I'll do more Seras fanfics in the future. I want to give her the attention she deserves. :)


End file.
